George
by Shalkan's Rider
Summary: Twins were supposed to be a matched set. All characters owned by J.K. Rowling


George had felt it, that moment when Fred died. He hadn't been sure what he felt- just that one moment he was _twin_ and the next he was just, George. He hadn't paid much attention to the feeling- at that time he had been holding off three Death Eaters so a group of sixth year Ravenclaws could pull two of their fallen house mates out of the line of fire.

It was only later, when George stood in the Great Hall and stared down at his brother, one corpse in a long line of many, that he remembered that little moment and realized that he had been 'just George' for at least an hour already.

He wasn't as surprised or as shocked as everyone thought he was. He and Fred had been two faces of one mind for twenty years, but the loss of his ear had marred their ability to be one another in all ways. They became two separate beings- no more Gred and Forge, no more tricking mom into thinking she had called them by the wrong name, no more switching christmas sweaters to confuse the rest of the family. From the moment the mirror they formed was shattered by the hole in his head, they were twins-but-not-twins. He and Fred had both known that only one of them would survive the war, if that. They had spoken of it, once upon a not-so-happy time;

_The two of them sat in their Diagon Alley flat, above the store. The room was neat and plain, a stark contrast to the chaos of the shop below._

_"Fred," George asked, fiddling with the firewhiskey bottle in his hand. "When did we become Fred and George instead of Fred'n'George?" He took a swing from the bottle._

_"I guess when you lost your ear." Fred stated before taking a sip from his own bottle._

_"So it's my fault." _

_Fred grinned. "Everything's your fault." _

_"Everything's been my fault for nineteen years now. Isn't it your turn to take some of the blame?" George inquired with a whine, his small smile betraying his lack of anger._

_"Doesn't work that way, brother. One of us needs to take all the blame, the other all the credit. You know, yin and yang." Fred gave him a mock serious look. "You can't mess with the balance of life. Paired items have to take opposite sides of things. It keeps the world going."_

_"Like one foot is responsible for walking forward the other for walking back?" George asked. Fred nodded._

_"And one glove is responsible for keeping the cold out, while the other works on keeping the warm in."_

_"One hand does the giving, the other does the taking."_

_"One ear let's the sound in, the other let's the sound out." Fred paused. "Guess you're going to have to choose which ear was which, seeing as half the pairs missing." George frowned._

_"Doesn't that mess with your theory on the balance of the world or something?" Fred thought for a moment._

_"Well, if one half of the pair is lost, the remaining half has to take over the duties of the missing part, both to preserve the equilibrium, and keep the memory of that which was lost alive."_

_"So what if one of us winds up... lost?" George inquired. "Does the other keep going, living life for the two of us?" Fred shrugged._

_"Yeah. After all, if one of us ... gets lost, the other one has to pull it together and help the family. We are a pair with responsibilities, you know."_

_George raised an eyebrow in question. "Such as..."_

_"Teasing Ron about Hermione," Fred stated._

_"Threatening Harry if he gets frisky with Ginny." George continued._

_""Making people laugh." Fred said quietly. "That's the most important one. We gotta keep 'em happy, George. Make sure they remember what they're fighting for. Make sure they remember it's worth it." George had nodded in agreement, before tilting back his head and the bottle, Fred a second behind him._

A matched pair that stopped matching long ago. A set of twins now made up of one person.

George stared down at his reflection lying on the ground before him. Slowly, he reached up a hand and touched the hole where his ear had once been. He had always felt that the hole in his head made him uneven; everything else in his life was matched with something else. But now there was a gaping hole in his heart, to match the one in his skull. Another pair in place of the one ripped apart. Balance, upended and restored.

George was not as surprised or shocked as everyone thought he was. With a nod to his brother's corpse, he straightened his back, feeling all the blame and all the credit settle down onto his shoulders as he worked a crooked smile onto his face, and a laugh into his mouth.

_"Make 'em laugh George."_


End file.
